


Caging the mind

by Failing_Physics



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, M/M, Mind Control, Monster of the Week, bc we love that stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:40:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Failing_Physics/pseuds/Failing_Physics
Summary: Geralt is, as always, off somewhere fighting monsters. Only now Jaskier gets in the middle of it with dire consequences
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 345





	Caging the mind

“Woo! Get ‘em Geralt.”

“Shut up Jaskier!” 

Jaskier grinned, half-hidden by thick tree branches as he watched the scene below him unfold. When Geralt had gotten a contract to go and kill the local monster of the week, Jaskier had absolutely refused to be left behind in the local town again and so after the bard had spent hours pleading, begging, and half-heartedly threatening the Witcher, Geralt had grudgingly allowed Jaskier to accompany him. Even if that did mean he was stuck halfway up a tree whilst he watched the fight below. 

Three of the creatures that Geralt had referred to as a slatestalker crept around the white-haired Witcher, hissing and dragging oversized grey limbs along the ground. One pounced, fast as bottled lightning, and made to sink its fangs into Geralt’s neck. But Geralt was swifter and swung his sword almost faster than Jaskier’s eyes could follow. The creature was dead in seconds and Jaskier edged his way further out onto the branch - ignoring the way in creaked dangerously in his efforts to get a better view. Geralt’s fight had lead him out of sight and Jaskier strained forwards -

There was a sudden feeling of weightlessness accompanied with a loud crack and Jaskier fell through the air, opening his mouth to scream, before he landed with bone-cracking force on the forest floor. He gulped in air, forgetting the monsters entirely until a broad and vaguely humanoid slate-grey face loomed over him. He screamed. The creature lunged and the poet rolled away, throwing up his arms in defense. Fangs sunk into his forearm and Jaskier tore himself free, almost passing out at the pain. The slatestalker gave a deafening shriek, blasting Jaskier with foul air before it thrust forward to finish the poet off. The bard closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow - that never came. 

“What the fuck Jaskier.” 

Jaskier cracked open his eyes to see the Witcher standing over him with a bloody sword and one very dead slatestalker. Jaskier forced himself to get his breathing under control, shoving down the pain deep, deep down inside. 

“ _ What? _ You should be used to this kind of thing by now Geralt.”

“You falling out of trees and almost getting killed?”

“Of a sort. I am your damsel in distress you know. Every hero worth singing about has one.” 

Geralt shook his head slightly, letting out a noise that might have been amusement, before a serious look took over his features again. 

“Did it bite you?” 

“No.” Jaskier moved his injured arm out of sight. No point in worrying Geralt and then getting yelled at. It was probably nothing anyway. 

_______________

  
  


Jaskier jerked awake so violently that he almost fell off his sleeping mat. He lay still, trying to figure out what had caused the reaction. It took him a good minute of staring around at the trees and the stars to realize that the bite mark on his arm was throbbing alarmingly. Jaskier gave a shuddering breath at the sudden pain, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Shit, shit,  _ shit. _ ”

_ I should’ve just told Geralt when it’d happened, _ Jaskier thought, mentally kicking himself and moved to throw his covers aside - before his mind froze. His hand didn't seem to want to move. _Why… why wasn’t his body obeying him?_ Jaskier managed to shake his head - no, he was just exhausted and the pain must be doing funny things to his brain. This time he sat up and moved the covers with deliberate slowness, as if to prove to himself that he could. Jaskier shakily stood and took a step towards Geralt’s sleeping figure before his eyesight blurred for a second. He hesitated, blinking - and then his hand began to move, unbidden. 

Time seemed to slow and condense as Jaskier tried to get himself under control. The bard’s foot moved forward entirely on its own and he tried to speak, to scream, but his lips stayed glued together. He - he was a passenger in his own body and could only watch, horrified, as his arm reached down to deftly snatch up Geralt’s gleaming silver sword. 

Jaskier frantically fought against the invisible force with all his willpower, desperately pulling against the foot that smoothly lifted and gave Geralt a savage kick in the ribs. The poet watched as the Witcher started awake and lifted burning orange eyes to Jaskier.

“ _ Jaskier? _ What the hell?” he snarled, rubbing his side and giving a grimace. 

“Stand up.” Snapped the thing that was not Jaskier in the bard’s voice. At the tone of the poet’s voice, Geralt seemed to go motionless and looked at Jaskier in a new light. 

“Jaskier. Put that down.” Geralt’s voice was so shockingly gentle that it wrenched and tore at Jaskier’s heart. He screamed and struggled and ripped at the thing that had taken over his body, but nothing happened. Not even an acknowledgment towards his efforts. Jaskier’s very blood felt cold and alien, slithering through his veins sickeningly. He watched as his body took up a fighting stance and held the sword out in front of him.

The Witcher’s face went utterly neutral, as he stood and pulled out a blade of his own. Jaskier’s expression contorted in a grimace as he took a step and swung towards Geralt’s face. The metal was parried only an inch from the Witcher’s neck. Without missing a beat, Jaskier pulled away and struck again, wielding the sword with a kind of practiced ease that only came from years of training. Again the blade was countered.

“Fucking hell Jaskier, what have you done now?” 

Jaskier’s body pulled back and slashed again, this time catching Geralt on the side of the face with a shallow cut that started to well blood almost immediately. At the sight of it, something snapped inside Jaskier and he wrenched against the invisible leash: 

“Geralt-” the word was strangled and swiftly crushed but it was still  _ him _ , his  _ voice _ . Geralt seemed to scrutinize Jaskier closer. 

“Jaskier,  _ what did you do _ .” 

Jaskier-but-not-Jaskier just gave a spine-chilling laugh and lunged into his next attack. Jaskier could tell Geralt was on the defensive as he wove a net of metal and flashing swords around the Witcher - Geralt should’ve been easily able to overpower him, but it occurred to Jaskier that Geralt also knew how easily he could kill the bard. There was an abrupt break in the fight, both parties breathing hard, Jaskier still clawing the walls of mind for any kind of weakness, any kind of opening in the impenetrable armor. But there was nothing. 

Then, as if in slow motion, Jaskier watched as Geralt struck, sidestepping Jaskier’s blade and flicking the metal outwards until Jaskier had no choice but to send the sword clattering onto the ground. Jaskier’s body retreated, edging towards the fire. Geralt didn’t move, but instead stared hard at Jaskier’s forearm that had become exposed in the fight. The hideous bite mark had been revealed in all its glory. At the sight of it, Geralt gave a deep sigh. 

“Jaskier, the next time you get bitten by a  _ gods-damned slatestalker _ , tell me.” 

Clarity suddenly hit Jaskier like a physical slap - the bite - he was possessed by the… the slatestalker. Before he could chase the thought further, he felt his body moving again - stretching a hand down towards the fire and deliberately snatching up a burning branch. Even the slatestalker’s influence couldn’t stop Jaskier from giving a shriek at the sudden agony, fighting to drop it, but his hand’s iron grip remained. Even as his thoughts were clouded by the pain, Jaskier still felt himself moving, brandishing the fire, his mind filled with horror. Geralt, still striding forward, dodged the branch by mere millimeters, the flames scorching his skin. 

He snatched Jaskier’s wrist and threw the bard to the ground. Jaskier twisted but found himself pinned down and inches from Geralt’s eyes. An intense feeling of relief crashed over Jaskier - he couldn’t hurt anyone as long as Geralt restrained him. With difficulty, Geralt reached over to his bag and produced a small vial, removing the cork before forcing the bitter liquid into Jaskier’s mouth. 

The bard spluttered as his hand moved to hit Geralt before it was roughly slapped away.

“Swallow, goddamn it!” The Witcher snarled and Jaskier felt some of the fluid slide down his throat. Geralt’s grip relaxed and Jaskier’s body immediately moved to attack the Witcher, but something was wrong as he staggered upright. His vision blurred slightly and the poet’s knees buckled as the world faded to black. 

_______________

Jaskier’s head was pounding. And it hurt. A lot. He cracked open his eyes, blinking and wincing as the light change made his head split open even more. 

“ _ Fuuuuuck _ .” He sat up, breath catching as he became aware that his whole body was aching horribly. 

“And how are you feeling.” 

The poet blearily glanced over to Geralt who was stirring some suspiciously viscous fluid in a pan over the fire. 

“Like I drank wayyyy too much last night.” Jaskier groaned, collapsing back into the sleeping mat. 

“Yes, well, that’s what happens when you get bitten by a  _ slatestalker _ .” Geralt shook his head slightly, as if he still couldn’t quite believe that Jaskier had been so stupid. “Next time you get bitten by something for god’s sake tell me.” 

Jaskier swallowed and sat up again, this time meeting Geralt’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry. Really. I - I could’ve fought it, but I got you hurt -”

“Jaskier. No one can fight a slatestalker’s influence. And I’m fine - you should be more worried about yourself.” He gestured towards Jaskier’s heavily bandaged hand. 

“Geralt, I could’ve  _ killed _ you.” 

Something in the poet’s tone made Geralt pause and turn more fully towards Jaskier. 

“But you didn’t. We’re both here, we’re both alive.” 

Jaskier released a shaky breath, running a hand over his face. 

“Right.” 

There was a silence.

“You know what?”

“What?” Geralt asked.

“Minus the murder, I’d do that again. Ten out of ten experience. ” 

Geralt rolled his eyes, but let out a small laugh nonetheless. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments always mean the world to me! <3


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